I just bought two closets for my parent’s apartment from somebody they found on Janglo. In a true Salla Shabati moment, the people dropped off the closet in the parking lot, took the money, and left before I realized that I’m going to have to figure out some way to get these monsters up the stairs.
I have a thought on this “victory in points,” that we just scored in Lebanon. If I were to fight Mike Tyson in the ring, last 15 rounds, but lose to him “on points,” I would consider that a victory, even if, technically, I was the loser. (How lame was that at the end of Cinderella Man where he wins the fight on points? They should have deviated from the true story. Who wants to watch a boxing movie wher somebody doesn’t go down?) I also don’t think Mike Tyson would run around bragging about how he beat me in a victory on points. Though honestly, I would just be thankful he didn’t go to town on my ear.
So what we have here is essentially a draw, but in a fight where Israel needed a win to win, and Hizbullah just needed to avoid the loss. In that sense, we lost. Even if, really, we won. It’s complicated.
I was watching Empire Strikes Back the other day, and something one of the characters said struck me. Chewie is choking Lando, who’s trying to gasp out “Han! There’s still a chance to save Han!” Chewie finally lets him go, and off they go, running to save Han. While Lando crouches, trying to recover, Threepio (who is half assembled, and strapped onto Chewie’s back) shouts out “Don’t blame him! After all, he’s only a wookie!”
Only a wookie? It struck me as a little racist. Or, more accurately, speciesict. Who’s to say one species of aliens is preferred over another? Let’s say, for example, all the Star Wars characters were stranded on a desert island somewhere. Would it be wrong for them to kill Chewbacca and eat him? What makes him different than, say, a cow. How do people who live in a multi-species universe decide which ones are “people,” which ones are “food,” and which ones are lesser species; not food, but “only a wookie.” Even Luke used to bulls eye womp-rats in his T-16 back home. Why isn’t that murder?
Golly, it sure must have been swell to grow up in the fifties.
I especially like the part where you’re not supposed to go out with any girl unless she scarfs down cotton candy like a pig.
For some reason, I’m reminded of the ELAL pre-flight safety cartoon when I watch this. Maybe it’s just the music.